


the mustang kids are out

by orphan_account



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: (think the beginning of bonnie and clyde), Alternate Universe, Bandits & Outlaws, Crimes & Criminals, M/M, Suggestive Themes, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Do you want to turn back?"Ryan looks at his hands: Left– clasped around the handle of his pistol, right– clasped around the palm of his lover. "No," he whispers, taking a deep breath in and coming to meet Shane's eyes again. He says, in earnest with a twisted smile on his pink lips. "Never.





	the mustang kids are out

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Ryan's sweating, and profusely at that. He's still deciding if it's the sun glaring down that's causing the perspiration to seep from his skin, or whether or not it's his nerves, his goddamned shaky, trigger-finger nerves. He looks at Shane–  _shit,_ does that man look gorgeous today. Ryan will eat his hat on the day that Shane Madej doesn't look gorgeous to be fair, but  _now,_ with this glow that effervesces in the midday light and the blatant sketch of worry over his features, Ryan finds it hard to ignore the feeling of falling head first all over again.

"You don't look so good, baby." Shane reaches his hand up while the other keeps his grip on the steering wheel, sprawling his palm over Ryan's forehead to feel any heat. "Pale."

Ryan goes to answer but finds the words sit jammed like a square in his throat. He swallows, painfully so, and manages a nod to respond.

"It's not like you to keep your mouth shut for this long," Shane chuckles as he speaks. "You must be nervous." It dies away to quiet, the only sound filling the space being a car passing on the highway every now and again. It's quiet a lot out in the middle of nowhere, the tiny hick town that they sit parked in the middle of bearing no more than a handful of people to make much of a noise anyway. Ryan's not keen on quiet: he likes a ruckus, a good brawl, even better standing if he caused it too. Silence isn't his friend– he doesn't like the way it whispers to him.

"You know," Shane begins eventually, "you don't have to be a part of this. You can quit now. I won't be mad, baby."

Ryan used to hate that name,  _baby._ He'd hear it being thrown around by the condescending ladies in his hometown, the way they'd pet his hair and tell him how much of sweet boy he be. He hated the way it held no meaning other than a common name of fondness spoken by an unfamiliar, or how it'd be followed by a light chuckle or supercilious, "cute." But Shane... he's different. He is in a lot of ways. Ryan doesn't mind the quiet if Shane hears it too; he doesn't mind a pet name, whispered graciously against his listening skin when he's the one speaking it. Ryan has morals but doesn't care if the blood on his hands never washes off after now.

Shane rambles, and he continues, "I understand, it's daunting for you." His face offers a warmth endurable even on this sweltering day. "It was for me too back in the day." Ryan loves the vast majority of what comes from Shane's mouth, risque or endearing all the same, but God, sometimes he needs to  _shut the fuck up._ He's a good guy, really, but Ryan just needs him to not talk while he thinks every once in a while. "You can wait here, be the drive–"

"Shane, shut up," Ryan interrupts. He looks away from the man and down to his jittering legs tucked under the dashboard of the dirty, desert-stained Mustang. "I think..." he says, but realizes he doesn't know what's really in his head anymore. Just half a year ago, Ryan was waiting for something,  _anything._ Behind the counter of the city corner store, he'd watch the cars roll by while he engaged in mundane conversation with the same boring folks he knew too much about. It was half a year ago when, with a cloud of mystery following like a shadow, a stranger wandered in asking for nothing unordinary– a pack of six, a box of Dunhills, and for the cash register to be emptied into his burlap sack. Oh, while he pointed a gun, too. Mondays, right?

To say that Ryan half a year ago knew he'd end up in the passenger seat next to that (Devilishly handsome and oddly charming) stranger would be a reach. He'd thought it, though. And remembered it, too, as in a bar somewhere along the way to the next city on, the same stranger walked in, saw him, and had him in bed by the time the night was up.

Ryan wasn't waiting for Shane, but he got him anyway. Everything fell naturally like the world crumbling into beauty.

Shane was  _bad_ but in only in the best way. He fought, but mostly to protect; and stole, but mainly to provide (what's wrong with a few diamonds on the side, though?). Shane was an outlaw and Ryan became his lovestruck, adrenaline junkie baby. Shane made him think, made him  _feel_ those godforsaken little fantasies he'd imagine on the slow day of his life (which was, really, every day). Their reality became a late-night crime drama, running from cops and getting drunk off of neon lights. Behind the barrel of a pistol, they stand untouchable. And filthy fucking rich.

"Do you want to turn back?"

Shane knows not to interrupt Ryan when he's on a thought-train but does so anyway to ground the latter.

Does he? Ryan looks across the road from where they're parked, where the small town bank sits sparsely populated. It's no  _Bank of America_ but there's a vault– a vault filled with everyone's money. He can feel the crisp touch of green notes already, hear the echo of the warning shots in his ears. The thought gets him going, the toxic sensation being injected into his veins... the smile Shane gives him as they drive off into the sunset, the smile he gives him as he fucks Ryan on a motel bed full of cash. Jesus Christ, he's in love. Bad, bad love.

No. He never wants to turn back. Just this job, then the world is in their red hands.

Shane reaches over and takes Ryan's chin between his forefinger and thumb, turning his head and kissing him like it's the only way he gets to breathe. "Tell me," he says strongly, almost  _growling._ "Do you want to turn back?"

Ryan looks at his hands: Left– clasped around the handle of his pistol, right– clasped around the palm of his lover. A million and one reasons should come to him as to why he should say yes. He's throwing a life of law-abiding freedom away in exchange for one laced with excitement and doused in passion. Fuck, he'd give everything up for Shane, though, wouldn't he? Hasn't he already. One bullet and the pair run the same road, standing as equals on the hierarchy of terror. A million and one reasons should come to him as to why he should say yes, but he ignores every single one of them and kisses Shane back harder.

"No," he whispers, taking a deep breath in and coming to meet Shane's eyes again. He says, in earnest with a twisted smile on his pink lips. "Never.

Shane reflects him, grinning wide and leaving one more searing kiss on his lips. He cocks his gun and mutters, chills dancing down Ryan's spine.

"Let's go, baby."

**Author's Note:**

> i can't wait for everyone subbed to me thats waiting for a new svt fic or an earned it update to randomly get an email about me writing for buzzfeed now lmao... nice knowing ya kids <3
> 
> feedback loved! ^^


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